


A Touching Reunion

by Lalafell_Princess



Category: Final Fantasy VII Remake (Video Game 2020)
Genre: Adaptation, Gen, Remake spoilers, Scenes from the remake, early game spoilers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-20
Updated: 2020-04-20
Packaged: 2021-03-02 02:01:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,104
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23747242
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lalafell_Princess/pseuds/Lalafell_Princess
Summary: Cloud's past is a hazy blur. What's even real anymore?
Kudos: 15





	A Touching Reunion

Sector 8 was ablaze.

Cloud Strife stumbled down its streets, footing unsure on the broken cobblestone paths. Huddled citizens whispered in small groups, periodically glancing up to the flaming husk of Reactor 1 lighting up the night. Buildings were collapsed, cars smashed, walkways blocked. And yet the ex-SOLDIER carried on. He needed to get to the station.

Traversing the debris proved more difficult than expected. Dirt and dust coated his clothes, scuffs smudging his smooth face. The massive destruction from the bombing was hard for the others to swallow, but hardly phased him. It was simply another job, another paycheck. One he begrudgingly had to await his share on until returning to Sector 7.

There was something eerily familiar about the flickering flames licking along the mason work. They awakened things hidden away in his psyche. His vision crackled and pulsed, the crumbling buildings giving way to something else. Mako-blue eyes widened in a rare expression—fear. He found himself standing in the fiery ruins of Nibelheim, his hometown.

It was an illusion. It had to be. Just another painful memory sealed behind his cold complex. And the tall, silver-haired man before him was merely an illusion as well.

Right?

His back was to Cloud. Fire swirled around his long cloak, yet no burns marred the black leather. He turned, slowly, and before his teal eyes could focus on the quivering mercenary, he vanished.

Cloud blinked. Everything was back where it was supposed to be. _Just in my head. Too many mako fumes._ He sighed, turning to continue down the cracked pavement.

Something was in his way, and this time it wasn’t rubble or charred metal. It was the man he’d just seen, now standing inches from him in the middle of Loveless Avenue. The grin curled on his lips made Cloud’s hair stand on end. The ex-SOLDIER reached for his sword.

A small explosion ensued off to their left as an aftershock claimed more establishments. Hot smoke and ash welled up around them as new fires flickered to life. When Cloud looked up from shielding his face, the man was strolling off down an alley. “How…?” Frantic mutters trailed from his trembling teeth as he staggered after him. “He couldn’t be… but then…”

He was no longer sure what was real and what wasn’t. Had he truly just seen Sephiroth? His clothes felt hot and sticky, sweat beading on his forehead. Walking became difficult; his pace slowed to a crawl. The burning buildings shifted between Sector 8 shops and Nibelheim houses as a haze flashed across his mind. His breathing was labored as he limped down the alley, stopping twice to hold his throbbing, searing head. _This can’t be real… it can’t be…_

Sephiroth stood calmly at the end of the corridor as Cloud rounded the corner, hunched against the heat. “You’re not real…” he sputtered out. “You’re… dead! I killed you with my own…!”

“Oh, you needn’t remind me. It was the crowning moment of our time together.” Sephiroth’s voice was deep, smooth, slow. It was almost enough to make Cloud vomit right there on the stone. He spoke some more, but his words were lost on the mercenary. Another illusion had taken hold of him.

Fire danced in his horrified eyes as he lay helpless on the dirt path, watching his home burn. He called hoarsely for his mother. Sephiroth’s words pierced his soul. _Your hometown that burns so bright… The sound of her voice pleading for me to spare you. The shiver of her flesh yielding to cold steel._

Once again returned to the present moment, Sephiroth continued speaking, but only blind rage consumed Cloud’s thoughts. The man who’d taken everything from him, the man he’d killed himself, was now somehow standing before him, smirking, taunting. His skin flushed with heat from the flames, his blood boiling with anger. He found the strength to wield his sword, cursing and swinging it over his head.

Before the blade could connect with Sephiroth, the image shattered. Cloud was alone in a dark corridor, sparks flying from his weapon as it bounced off the ground. Sephiroth’s voice purred in his mind. _Good, Cloud. Very good. Hold on to that hatred._

* * *

Cloud shot out of bed. Something odd had awoken him. Not that he particularly minded being ripped from his dream of the previous night’s encounter. He grabbed his sword hilt. Moaning and shuffling sounded through the wall. The unknown neighbor was finally making his presence known.

Something about the whole thing made him shiver. Perhaps it was just because of the dream he’d escaped from. Regardless, he stepped out into the night, pausing in front of room 203. “Hey, you okay in there?” Nothing; merely more moaning. He gritted his teeth, gripping the door handle. “Coming in.”

The room was dark, and for a moment he thought no one was even inside. The messy bed was empty, as well as the rickety desk chair. And then he saw him.

Cloud’s sword banged on the doorframe as he attempted to draw it. Sephiroth was hunched over in the corner, rising and gliding towards him. The mercenary backed up, tripping and falling to the floor. Weapon out of reach, he was helpless as Sephiroth knelt over him, gloved fingers gripping his arms, staring, grinning.

He grasped for the buster sword, finally closing around the hilt. Sephiroth was shoved into the wall as Cloud stood and raised the weapon high. Suddenly Tifa cried from the edge of his vision. “Cloud, stop!”

“Get back inside!” He was about to let loose when this illusion, too, broke. He was left staring at a feeble man in a black cowl, his face obscured and moans falling softly from his lips. A tear in the cowl revealed the number 49 tattooed on his shoulder.

“What are you doing to Marco? This is his apartment.” Tifa knelt next to the man, concern knitting her eyebrows as she looked up at a heaving Cloud. “He’s got a few problems, but he’s not a bad guy. The landlady asked me to check on him now and then to make sure he’s okay. Can I ask you to do the same?”

Cloud backed up, sheathing his sword. “Sure…”

With Marco safely and quietly back in his apartment, Cloud and Tifa returned to theirs. It was a long while before Cloud was able to get back to sleep. The image that flashed across his eyes when Marco grabbed him was burned into his mind. Dozens of shuffling people in cowls like his were congregated, mindlessly chanting the same thing, over and over again.

_Reunion… Reunion…_

**Author's Note:**

> Can I just say I REALLY love what they've done with the remake. At first I was a little skeptical that it was so different from the original, but now I'm just excited to see where they're going to take it. We'll always have the original story, and now we have something new to add alongside it as well. We're in uncharted territory now.  
> This is just a little warm-up fic for me. It's been a long time since I've written for VII, so I need to get back into the minds of the characters. These early remake scenes gave me goosebumps, so I thought I'd tackle them first. I think I'll always be weak in the knees for Sephiroth~  
> Expect more VII stories in the future!


End file.
